The Nick Winchester Stories
by WriterT
Summary: The life and tribulation's of a young man searching for his father, his BB gun, and himself. It's one thing being a Winchester but it's another thing having Dean and Sam for older brothers.


**Soooo, I am a big fan of sister stories...but were's the brotherly love?  
****I saw there were a few sisterly communties but none of the stories really peeked my interest.  
Then I started writing one of my own and then decided that I don't remember seeing any stories were there is anothing brother  
...so what the hell, why not?**

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**Chapter One**

I wrapped my hand around a gun for the first time at the tender age of nine. "Is it real?" I asked in awe. I had never held a gun before but I had been around them enough to know what they were like. My dad's ruff laughter startled me from behind sending a small BB pellet to the ground.

He ripped the gun from my hand. "No, little boys don't get guns, it's a BB shooter. Learn how to use it right…and then I will _think _about getting you a .45." His cautious eyes studied the small gun wondering how much harm I could manage from it. "Now that I think about it maybe this wasn't the best birthday present."

"I'll be careful." I pleaded. "I won't shoot nothing but cans and fence posts. I won't shoot Dean or Sam…even if I get really mad. I promise I won't, I won't, I won't."

My dad flashed a rare genuine smile "Is that a promise, son?"

"Yes…yes, Sir."

* * *

_Eight Years Later_

The end of the barrel smoked lightly as I lowered it to my side.

"Nice shot!" said Sam, looking impressively at the can laying on the ground forty feet away. "Honestly didn't think you had it in ya', sissy." I ducked as his hand shot naturally to ruffle my hair.

I turned to Dean and waited to hear his praise for my point on target practice but instead he raised his gun eyeing the can cockily. "It was okay, for a kid…but let me show you how a real man does it." He smirked.

He shot once, nothing. Shot twice, nothing. Shot a third time, nothing. He eyed us dangerously, daring us to say something. "Third times the charm." he mumbled.

"Too bad it's his fourth shot." Sam whispered to me.

I was sure Dean heard but he decided not to say anything…or rather not hurt anyone. On the fourth shot he clipped the side of the can and sent it spinning back into the grassy lawn. He turned to us with the smirk wiped from his face. "I'm used to a moving target." he shrugged "more of a challenge."

I swallowed my laugh as Sam patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Whatever makes you feel better. I mean, hey, I wouldn't want to fall asleep knowing that my kid brother just owned me at target practice…but, man, you know it happens."

Dean pushed him away. "Shut-up Sammy."

"I really wasn't aware that it was a competition." Dean said, saving face "I was just having a little fun…I left my A game back in the trailer."

"More like you lost it." I snickered following them up to the house. I walked though the door to the house and planted myself onto an old orange chair. "I guess that's what you call 'separating the boys from the men, huh Dean?" I taunted flipping through the channels on the fuzzy TV set.

"No." said Dean as a swift smack landed on the back of my head. He grabbed the remote from my hand and punched me in the arm. "That…is how you separate the _men_" he pointed to himself "from the _boys_."

"Whatever" I scoffed rolling my eyes. "Just a big ape." I mumbled defiantly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Sam joined us on the couch sporting two beer bottles and a Pepsi. He handed me the pop as I reached for the beer. He flipped the bottle to Dean who skillfully caught it with one hand.

"Thanks Sammy." Dean said popping the bottle cap.

All was quiet for a time as we stared intently at the local news at ten. We were all hoping to hear of some mysterious death or happenings that might lead us to a clue about our Dad's job here in Norfolk. He usually took Dean with him and left me and Sam to take of ourselves but this week he told Dean "Stay here son, watch after your brothers. I'll be back as soon as I can." That was all the explanation he left before shutting the front door behind him. We all ended up disappointed when the most mysterious issue brought up was that of the "mystery soup".

Dean shut off the TV.

"When's Dad suppose to be back?" I asked Dean indirectly.

This seemed to be the million dollar question. Every time Dad left that was the question that needed to be answered. When will he be back? Does that mean were leaving when he comes home? How much longer do you think it will be?

All empty questions that no one can ever answer.

"I don't know Nick…I don't know." Dean sighed. He sounded frustrated. He saw twenty four and Dad was still leaving him out of the case. He threw his head back and finished off his beer. "I'm hitting the sack. You two don't be up too late…you hear me?"

"Yeah." I said, swirling around the last drops of pop in my can.

"You know I think I am going to bed to." Sam yawned following Dean. "Not too long, Nicky." He hollered back over his shoulder.

I sighed and leaned back in the chair trying to convince myself to dial the phone that was sitting anxiously in my palm. "Just call him." I whispered, trying to pep myself up. "It's just your Dad." I said, and then decided that wasn't the most convincing argument.

I eventually gained the courage to cal him as the minute hand crept closer to eleven fifteen. I dialed the number and held the phone close to my ear as it rang…and rang…and rang.

"This is John Winchester, if you need me, leave a message. If it's an emergency…call my son Dean, he'll help you." My Dad's voice said roughly.

"Hey, Dad, it's me…Nick. I know this isn't an emergency…but you've been gone a long time now and I was just wondering when your going to be back…because I was just…wondering, that's all….Bye Dad."

I hung up the phone trying to avoid thinking about how awkward those sentences had sounded. I tried not to show too much concern, wouldn't want to be seen as weak. And I didn't say "I love you" because that would be to emotional for Dad. I hoped it wasn't too cheesy either, I didn't want to confirm any of his thoughts…that I was sensitive and weak. Maybe I shouldn't have called?

I was contemplating away to break back into his voicemail when Sam interrupted my thoughts. "Nick!" he yelled from our shared bedroom. "Come to bed!"

I put the phone on the hook and ran into a chair before making it back to my bedroom.

"Who were you talking to?" Sam asked from the bed propping himself up on his elbow.

"No one."

He stared back at me knowing that I was obviously lying.

"What? I wasn't talking to any one." I said peeling off my shirt and climbing into bed. Technically I _am _telling the truth because I was talking to the answering machine not Dad.

"Look if there's something you need to talk about…I am here for you bud." Sam said laying back down.

I hated when he called me 'bud' it was like I was a dog or a preschooler, not a mature seventeen year old _man._ "Really, Sam, it's nothing…Everything's fine, I'm fine." I said and this time I wished that it was technically the truth.

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**I will post as soon as i get the next chapter written.  
What did you think?  
****Reviews would be greatly appreciated so that i can improve upon my plot and decided how much time needs to be dedicated to this story...thanks for reading!!! **


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